by John Ellis
He was born in North Carolina, and is now based in New York City. But in between, saxophonist John Ellis lived in New Orleans for five years. And he still keeps One Foot In The Swamp, as he titled a 2005 album: he often takes the city as his muse in his own composing, and the rest of his current band, Double-Wide, is based in the Big Easy. After the New Orleans Saints won the Super Bowl last night, he was so happy that he offered to write us something to commemorate the occasion. --Ed.
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New Orleans Saints quarterback Drew Brees celebrates his team's Super Bowl victory. (Timothy A. Clary/AFP/Getty Images)
I am not a football fan. I haven't cared about the Super Bowl since I was 12 years old. But last night, when it all settled in, when I really grasped that the New Orleans Saints had won the Super Bowl, I cried.
It's a poetic story: a city nearly destroyed by a hurricane returns five years later to win the Super Bowl. It's appealing in a predictable Hollywood way. But this is an outsider's perspective -- a distant detachment kind of narrative, like watching a movie with a satisfying ending. For the people of New Orleans, it's much more than that. When I spoke to my friend on St. Charles Ave., as the party raged past him, he let out a huge cathartic sigh and said, simply: "We needed this."
Post-Katrina New Orleans is tragic and beautiful at the same time. The pain of the storm and the displacement is apparent in overt or subtle ways in nearly every interaction. And yet, there's a new proactive kind of defiance and a commitment to rebirth that's intoxicating. Fleur-de-lis are tattooed on skin, printed on clothing and flags, bumper stickers, candleholders, clocks, underwear. It takes significant effort to get to a place where there aren't several fleur-de-lis in your line of vision. People feel a special kind of pride about their city, a pride that they feel outsiders just don't quite understand. And they're acting in many varied ways to take charge and invest and rebuild.
In spite of the odds, they're beginning to hope again.
In spite of the precariousness of their existence due to levees and dysfunctional government and hurricanes to come, hope is returning. In spite of the sad truth that many in the nation and the world only think New Orleans is a debaucherous, sinful party destination, people are dreaming of a better future. In spite of a football franchise unparalleled in its capacity to disappoint, they dared to believe. And they were not disappointed this time.
The team transcended metaphor and symbol, and became gumbo and jazz and joie de vivre. Their performance in the game was all heart and risk-taking, and as they fought on in such an unpredictable fashion, they not only represented the city of New Orleans: they were New Orleans. They went beyond football and became poetry.
I am not a football fan, but this is so much more than football. I've never been more proud to cry.
John Ellis
Feb. 8, 2010
Brooklyn, N.Y.
Words & Images by: Robert PollockOnly in New Orleans.
You've probably heard that expression before. Think back. Was it during Jazz Fest, Mardi Gras, maybe French Quarter Fest? I'm going to change that to, "All the time in New Orleans." In these economically challenging days, you can pick a long weekend, pay a lot less, and still have many "only in New Orleans" moments. That's what I did January 28 through February 2, 2010. Taking advantage of lower hotel rates and airfares during this "off" season before Mardi Gras, I arrived at the Dauphine Orleans in the French Quarter, hit the Redfish Grill for some great gumbo (no reservation needed), then headed to the world famous Maple Leaf to see the George Porter Jr. Trio. This weekly show stars the former Meter man with a revolving cast of guests. This night it was sax player Khris Royal and young gun guitar player Dan Abel, both from the New Orleans funk band Groovesect, and drummer Terrence Houston. To see Porter in this intimate environment allowed lucky patrons to get right up close to absorb the funky bass lines of this American treasure. No line at the bar, room to move on the floor, and New Orleans funk served by one of the players that helped write the recipe.
George Porter Jr. :: 01.28 :: New Orleans, LA Friday
Rolled out around 1 p.m. to my favorite bar in the French Quarter, Yo Mamma's on St. Peter near Bourbon. Boiled crawfish for breakfast? I had two orders. Again, there were no lines to get in and a seat at the bar. On the walk back to the hotel in the rain I heard a voice and accordion that stopped me in my tracks. Dwayne Dopsie and the Zydeco Hellraisers were kicking out their brand of high energy zydeco, so I just hung out at the Krazy Korner 'til the rain stopped. I got a spot in front of washboard player Alex MacDonald and I didn't mind taking up a barstool for my camera bag. The place was reasonably crowded but not packed.
The rain finally stopped and I headed out to the new Rock 'n' Bowl (no steps!) to catch Anders Osborne. The Rock 'n' Bowl has a real local feel to it, with families bowling and a hula hoop contest before the show that brought a smile to my face. Owner John Blancher led the crowd in Super Bowl chants that belong to the people of New Orleans and not the National Football League. I could feel the excitement these fans feel for their team. Osborne played a killer set with a trio featuring drums and a sousaphone.
Anders Osborne :: 01.29 :: New Orleans, LA I could easily have stayed for the entire show and would have if this had been in any other town, but this is New Orleans. Off I went to Tipitina's to see The Radiators' 32nd anniversary show. For 32 years these New Orleans legends have been offering up a gumbo of rock, blues, funk, and folk music. They have played with the early New Orleans legends Professor Longhair and James Booker, and have held the closing spot at Jazz Fest for many years. I have seen the Rads many times at big festivals, but here they were playing for a mostly hometown crowd with room to dance.
Saturday
Woke up late and got ready for the Krewe De Vieux Mardi Gras Parade. Mardi Gras is a long celebration and Fat Tuesday was still two weeks away. The parade was led by Dr. John. My plan afterwards was to go check out Kermit Ruffins at the Rock N' Bowl, but the realities of time and space compounded by the party at the Mardi Gras parade, well, it was just out of my hands. As Anders says, sometimes you just have to let the old man steer.
I'm a fishhead, so it was back to Tip's for more Radiation, where I was rewarded with a kick ass second set. These guys can bring it, plain and simple. Congratulations to Frank, Reggie, Dave, Camille and Ed for 32 years of fishhead music.
Sunday
I was going to take Sunday off and just chill in the Quarter, but I saw Dan Abel and he told me Groovesect was playing a small place on Jefferson Davis Highway called the Bayou Beer Garden. As it turns out it was a birthday party for drummer Colin Davis' girlfriend and I got to go all because we had talked music at the Maple Leaf on Thursday. Now, I'm not saying you're always going to get invited to parties, but most New Orleans musicians are accessible and like to meet the people who support live music.
Preservation Hall :: 02.02 :: New Orleans, LA
Monday
Got up early and went to Cafe Du Monde for a cafe latte and beignets. Bloody Mary at the Gazebo, and what do you know? A good band was playing for tips. Stayed for one more drink, just taking in the French Quarter. By 5 p.m. I was wondering what to do till Papa Grows Funk at the Leaf that night. Lovely Renee, my bartender at Yo Mamma's, suggested I go across the street to Preservation Hall. What I found there was straight up Dixieland jazz played by musicians carrying on a way of life that is found only in New Orleans.
Back to the Maple Leaf for Papa Grows Funk, or should I say Momma Grows Funk. Sitting in for the newly married John Gros was Keiko Matsui. A very good piano/B3 player, she wailed. Of course, she had help from June, Jason, Jelly Bean, and Marc. Gros finally showed up as the band teased "The Wedding March." The band and the audience had a good laugh, then got down to business. The funk was flying, and it seems married life is treating Gros well.
So, there you have it, folks. Five nights, eight shows, and a Mardi Gras parade, without one complaint about crowds, overpriced rooms, not being able to get a cab, not being able to get a beer and then get your spot back - none of it. Only in New Orleans.
 George Porter Jr. Trio | |
 Anders Osborne | |
 Papa Grows Funk with Keiko Matsui | |
 June Yamagishi - Papa Grows Funk | |
 Groovesect | |
 Preservation Hall Jazz Band | |
 Ed Volker - The Radiators | |
 The French Quarter |
JamBase | Super Bowl Champs
Go See Live Music!
This year's party returns to Le Poisson Rouge (on Bleecker & Thompson), and the lineup features three classic New Orleans heavy hitters: Bonerama, the brass rock band described by Rolling Stone as “the ultimate in brass balls” (Big Sam's Funky Nation, the powerhouse funk machine led by Big Sam Williams, formerly of the world-famous Dirty Dozen; and Tab Benoit, one of the top blues and roots musicians to emerge from Cajun country in generations.
All signs point to this year's Ball being the best one yet. Tickets have been going quickly, & we sold out early last year, so don't wait around to pick yours up. Wear your Mardi Gras costumes, too—we will be.
The Mardi Gras Ball is Saturday, February 13th at (Le) Poisson Rouge. Doors open at 8. Advance tickets are $30, and you can get 'em here. Tix at the door will be $35 (if they haven't already sold out!).
Down on the Bayou where the mighty Mississippi kisses Lake Pontchartrain and spills into the Gulf of Mexico. There sits that jewel of the Southland. What the French lost to the British who gave it to the Spanish who lost it back to the French who sold it to America for..... Well, some folks say Jefferson conned Napoleon in a card game and won it for some jambalaya and a chicory coffee.
New Orleans, N'Awlins, the Crescent City, the Big Easy, the northern capitol of the Caribbean, Groove City. Man, they have things down there you wouldn't believe. A mythic place of Mardi-Gras and mumbo, voodoo and the moss-covered alligator-spiked pathways of back-country swamp drained and sprinkled with gris-gris dust to house a wild, unruly population. A city with they own cuisine, they own architecture, they own music..streets with names like Dorgenois and Tchoupitoulas.
People in crazy costumes parading talkin 'bout "throw me somethin' mistah", dressed like Indians chanting 'bout, "Madi, Madi-Cudifiyo", sittin in the young twilight on the 'poach' of they camelback shotgun house eatin po' boys bout to 'make' groceries for the crawfish 'burl' they gon' have on 'Sadday'. They sing through horns down there you know. Yeah Padnah! Something called Jazz, started by a cornet man named Bolden. They say Bolden could play so loud the sun was scared to set. Some folks say the air is so thick down here you, can eat it with a spoon.
Drummers drag rhythms in dirgey solemnity down neighborhood streets as horns moan, mock and moo. Man, hot notes echo against the sky with such weight as to be objects. Objects of sorrow so passionately played that the dead begin to cry. Then that trumpet calls and everyone falls in behind the band for a second line parade and those musicians get to hollerin and shoutin and folks get to struttin and steppin and the living let go of the dead and sorrow soon becomes laughter. In New Orleans, we bury our dead above ground.
They always walk amongst us.... but that music. It always ends happy. So when a strong rain brings angry winds howlin' down the Mississippi or up from the Gulf, those misty winds carry the dreams of ghosts, yes, but not just the goblins of Marie Laveau the voodoo queen, or the tortured spirits of the legendary lascivious lovelies of Storyville sporting houses, or even the undead demons of corrupt politicians who have steeled our idealism over three colorful centuries. They also brings the spirits of Saints, of those who have lived here in quiet dignity and sanctified religiosity, of those who have raised kids in the shadow of the St. Louis Cathedral and Sundayed in Jackson Square or of the River Walk lovers holding hands... of many who have fallen in love here, proposed here, honeymooned here. Not just the howling ghouls of the frat-boy drunks on Bourbon street, but they also bring the angels of all who have romanced in and with this beautiful land on the Delta.
Yes, the 'haints become more famous but the Saints endure. Where were you when 85,000 people gathered in the last open seated stadium in professional football to witness John Gilliam run our very first kickoff 94 yards for a touchdown? When Tom Dempsey kicked that 63 yard field goal with half-a-right foot? When Tom Fears, Hank Stram, and Jim Mora prowled the sidelines? Were you there when Howard Stevens, Danny Abromowicz, Rickey Jackson, and Archie Manning donned the black and gold? Ahhh..those New Orleans Saints! Confined to a purgatory of their own making looking for the fast track to hell. Maybe a brand new dome would appease the gods of football---a Superdome.
Fathers bounced kids on their knees while explaining how we would certainly blow our 30 point halftime lead by game's end.....and the Saints did not disappoint. Where you there when the Dome Patrol brought us to the upper chambers of purgatory in search of playoffs, playoffs..playoffs? Yes, 'haints become famous but Saints endure. Just ask Deuce. If 4 years is a long time: (your high school years, your college days, the length of the Civil War..WWII)...then 43 yrs is an eternity. You ever wait for something so long that waiting for it becomes the something? You ever see grown folks put bags over their heads in public, covering up to hide from themselves like an old alcoholic who won't admit? We can't help it. We're with our Saints even when we 'aint. New Orleans people are stubborn and hate to leave home.
Down here, people like to brag about how they handle tragedy. Epochal hurricanes like Betsy and Camille are discussed as if they're people. "Betsy was bad but Camille, 'Lawd Have Mercy', the water was up here to my neck." Nobody brags on Katrina. She swept through here like death on a high horse. Those flood waters seemed to run all the demons, goblins, AND saints away forever. There goes old Jean Lafitte the pirate relocated to Houston, there goes old Jelly Roll Morton off somewhere in Memphis with that diamond still sparklin in his front tooth.
But quick to return is the unbending will and irrepressible spirit, sin-dipped in Tabasco sauce and spiced with file' in possession of an unshakable, unbreakable soul that Louis Armstrong first announced to the entire world through a red hot trumpet, that Danny Barker broadcasted on a burnished banjo, and Sidney Bechet shouted and screamed through a scorching horn said to be a soprano saxophone. And here comes that chastened Noah's arc of a dome rising from ignominy to become again a beacon of community. And, oh yes, they are still down here marching in those funny-named streets blowing history AND the present moment through singing horns. And people still dance with abandon, exuberance, and unbridled human feeling because that music tells 'em "what has been may be what is, but what will be cannot possibly be known."
We live the moment. Laissez les bon temps rouler! --Let the Good Times Roll. I think I hear that trumpet calling the children of the Who Dat Nation home--not Gabriel's or the horns that blew down the walls of Jericho--that jazz trumpet conjuring up the spirit world with a Congo Square drum cadence. Ghosts, goblins, and 'haints aggravate. Saints congregate. I hear them now bringing that 43yr second line to a glorious crescendo. "Who Dat Say What Dat When Us Do Dat?" Its like waiting 43yrs to hear somebody saya 'I Love You' back. And they do. Let the tale be told bout how the black and gold won the Super Bowl.
And those jazzmen still play sad songs but they always end happy.....they always do.
The New Orleans Saints are the 2009 NFL Champions, defeating the Indianapolis Colts 31-17 in their first-ever Superbowl! Congratulations to the Boys in Black & Gold and all of New Orleans! In celebration, WWOZ invites you to groove along with us to these Saints fight songs and videos.
With Will Bernard 
